


Negotiation Is A Fine Art

by beamirang



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Epic Hangovers, Gen, Humor, Jim gets into the worst trouble, Jim is a terrible hostage, Kidnapping, Protective Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Protective Spock (Star Trek)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 22:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16104920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beamirang/pseuds/beamirang
Summary: Jim Kirk is the worst hostage ever.Cross post from FF.net





	Negotiation Is A Fine Art

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably one the one-shot I had the most fun with. I can't believe it's been nearly five years since I posted it!

The technology used to bypass the security system on Jim Kirk's front door was worth every single one of the credits he'd spent on it.

Kirk and his crew had been out drinking all night, celebrating something too far away to properly observe. A birthday, perhaps. Or a promotion. After six hours of impressively heavy drinking, they had parted ways, Kirk walking a short distance from his apartment in order to see the pretty blonde science officer of his safely home, before stumbling into his own block, bleary eyed and loose limbed.

He'd contemplated taking Kirk then, but the security around his building was tight - so tight in fact that he'd been forced to shell out even more credits just to rent a unit inside and gain the credentials he'd need to be allowed out of hours access. He'd used a fake identity, of course.

So instead of what should have been a simple grab given Kirk's inebriated state, he was forced to sneak into his apartment like a common criminal. Casper Everett was  _not_  a common criminal.

Kirk's apartment was surprisingly inviting: various knickknacks from his travels, scattered with strange pieces of art and a truly monumental collection of technology. His coffee table was pulled high with what looked like the guts of several supercomputers and there was a stack of holos piled up beside it.

He found Kirk's bedroom quickly, his phaser in hand, prepared for the worst. A man of Kirk's reputation would hardly be an easy catch, especially in his own home.

But when the door slid open he found Kirk, half dressed and passed out on top of the bed, snoring lightly. He looked younger up close: a far distance from the glorious, untouchable figure Casper was so used to seeing in the media. His blond hair was messy, his famous blue eyes hidden behind closed lashes, and the t-shirt and boxers he wore worlds away from the perfectly pressed Dress Grays he was so often pictured in when accepting one commendation or another.

Casper crept closer, his palm sweaty against the phaser. He half expected Kirk to spring up and into action. The man had battled Klingons for christsake! He'd saved the world how many times? Casper had come expecting a fight, even a drunken one.

But Kirk slept on, peacefully unaware of the other presence in the room with him.

And so, steadying his nerves, Casper raised he phaser, pointed it at Kirk's chest, and oh so carefully pulled the trigger.

Kirk came to with a pitiful groan, squinting open one of those luminous blue eyes that Casper's ex had gushed so endlessly about, and whimpering. Getting him out of the apartment had been relatively easy, though Kirk had been a deadweight to carry down to the garage where Casper had a vehicle waiting.

They drove across town to a location Casper had prepared in advance, and he'd chained Kirk's wrists to a beam over his head and sat about waiting impatiently for him to wake.

This was it. His first moment with arguably the most famous and influential man in the Federation. His chance to make an impression, to cement the fact that for all Kirk's legendary heroics,  _Casper_  was the one in charge here.

He waited with baited breath as Kirk slowly regained consciousness, fully opened his eyes, and without fear, irony or so much as a hint of concern, said, "Please god, tell me you’ve got coffee."

Casper frowned at him. Not _quite_ the response he was expecting.

"I'm not sure you understand the situation you are in here, Mr Kirk," Casper said, purposely not using Kirk's rank.

Kirk closed his eyes and slumped back against the stone, handcuffs rattling. "No, I got it," he said. "I'm just really fucking hungover."

"You're in handcuffs," Casper pointed out.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Kirk grumbled, squinting up with one eye. "Did you kidnap me from my own fucking bed?" That was closer to the reaction Casper was hoping for, though granted it was more indignant than afraid. At least Kirk was recognizing the fact that  _something_  unusual was occurring. Casper raised what he hoped was an enigmatic eyebrow and said nothing. Eventually Kirk groaned again, somehow managing to look utterly pitiful and pathetic, despite having saved the planet more times than most men changed their socks. "Damn, that rotgut was strong. Seriously, coffee?"

"You're not even a little bit afraid?" Casper asked exasperatedly. He abducted the man from his bed and handcuffed him to a beam in an abandoned warehouse... They were practically hitting every kidnapping cliché in existence, and Kirk was hardly batting an eyelid.

"I'm too hungover to be afraid," Kirk said petulantly. "Take my advice: if someone hands you a drink the color of engine fuel, it probably  _is_  engine fuel. Especially if that someone is your Chief. _Motherfuck_  my head."

"Don't you even want to know who I am?"

"I'm not sure I remember who  _I_  am!"

"You don't care what I want with you?"

"Not particularly. Nice job on getting past the door though, points for that I guess."

On instinct, and just to see if maybe it would promote a more realistic reaction, Casper punched him in the face. Kirk's head snapped back and he blinked owlishly as blood trickled from his nose.

Better, much better.

Then…

"Hey wait, my head stopped ringing," Kirk said, brightening considerably. "Do that again."

Practically shaking with frustration, Casper howled irritably and stalked up the stairs, leaving Kirk to his hangover and hoping to god the man' s crew were a little more sober.

He called Kirk's First Officer using Kirk's own comm. Everyone knew that Kirk and the Vulcan were close. Friends were much easier to manipulate emotionally than a faceless institution.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Commander Spock who answered, but Kirk's CMO. "You're a dead man Jim Kirk," McCoy announced flatly, then frowned when he failed to recognize Casper.

"Doctor McCoy," Casper said having done his research and trying hard not to be intimidated by the cold, angry look in McCoy's gaze. "I take it by now you've noticed something missing. If you want to see your captain again you-."

"Keep the little shit," McCoy growled.

"What?"

No, really.  _What?!_

"I said keep him.  _Just one shot, Bones! One shot won't kill you!_  One shot my  _ass_."

That wasn't what he expected to hear. Wasn't Kirk adored by his friends and crew?  _Everyone_  loved him.

"Let's not be hasty, doctor." Ah, there was the Vulcan. "If he keeps the captain we cannot inflict our own revenge upon his person."

"Fair point," McCoy mused. "Who are you, what do you want, and how quickly can you get him back here so I can ring his scrawny fucking neck?"

"I, er...um..." None of this was going the way Casper intended it to. He'd had everything planned out, every possible scenario covered to deal with threats and a crew hell bent on saving Kirk from his ministrations...but  _this_ was not something he could’ve envisioned.

"Speak up!" McCoy snapped.

"I-"

"Doctor, I do not believe our young friend is particularly experienced with this form of dialogue. I recommend you cease berating him," The Vulcan said sternly then spoke to Casper. "What exactly are your demands?"

"I don't think even he knows." Casper jumped a foot in the air at the sound of Kirk's voice behind him. He was free of his cuffs and scrubbing at his eyes, hardly concerned with Casper or the phaser he carried. "Seriously man, where do you keep your coffee?"

Casper scrambled for his phaser and turned it on Kirk. "How did you get out of the cuffs?" he demanded.

Kirk shrugged and carried on towards the replicator. "Practice?"

"Get kidnapped a lot, do you?"

"Occupational hazard," Kirk admitted.

"Of being a jackass!" McCoy growled down the comm.

"Not so loud, Bones!" Kirk whimpered. "Oh god, how do you not have coffee programmed into this piece of shit? Chai tea? Who the fuck drinks chai tea?"

"Caffeine is bad for you," Casper informed him absently, "everyone knows that."

"Dude, you kidnapped me from  _my own fucking bed_  and you're lecturing me on what's  _bad for my health?"_

"He's right, Jim. You drink too much of that crap," McCoy said, coming to Casper's defense.

"Shut up, Bones. I've been kidnapped and now I'm being tortured and you should be way more sympathetic," Kirk whined.

"Screw you kid. I'm hungover, my head is killing me, something might have died in my mouth and don't for one second think getting your ass abducted is going to save it from a good kicking when you get back."

Kirk turned pitiful eyes on Casper. "You see what I have to deal with?" he asked, replicating a chai tea and giving it a suspicious sniff before taking a snip. "Hey, this shit isn't half bad."

"I think you're stressing the kid out, Jim," McCoy said critically.

Kirk looked over at Casper, who couldn't understand why things were happening this way. This wasn't the plan!

"Well if he'd got me coffee..."

"You're being a shitty hostage," McCoy snorted.

"Well he's being a shitty kidnapper!"

"Hey!"

"You are, I'm sorry but it is true." Kirk shrugged innocently as he continued to sip the chai. "Next time start with coffee and I'll be much more amenable to negotiation."

"I don't want to negotiate with  _you!"_  Casper yelled. "I want to negotiate with  _them_."

"Why would you want to do that?" Kirk frowned. "They don't negotiate. They just sort of charge in, blow shit up and then don't even apologize when I get my ass chewed out by Command."

"You are the Captain. You're responsible for us." McCoy said primly.

Kirk snorted. "Apparently I can't even be responsible for myself!" The he paused, frowning. "Ah shit."

"Ah shit?” Casper worried.

"I think I'm gonna throw up."

"I'd move if I were you. He has lousy aim." McCoy advised Casper, who just about managed to dodge Jim doubling over and vomiting on the floor. "Told ya."

"Okay, let's try this again." Casper pinched the bridge of his nose and scowled down at the queasy looking man he had bound to a sturdy chair. Kirk hadn't put up much of a fight when Casper had hauled him across the room and fastened him down extra tightly, just in case,

"I'm all ears," Kirk mumbled blearily. "Is the world spinning? Is that a thing now?"

Casper had ended the call to McCoy shortly after Jim threw up, clearly not about to make any legway with either him or the Vulcan, neither of whom seemed all that concerned with Kirk's welfare.

"You talk a lot," Casper frowned at him.

"So I've been told," Kirk agreed.

"I could just gag you."

"Good luck negotiating shit when I choke on my own vomit." Kirk managed a small shrug in his bonds, not particularly perturbed by his situation.

Casper lent over and rested his head in his hands. Did other kidnappers have to deal with this? Was this normal?

Because if it was he could understand why so many people kept trying to kill Kirk. The man was a pain in the ass.

He heard Kirk sigh. "Look kid, I get the feeling you're kinda new to this shit, so let me explain how this is going to work, okay?" He didn't wait for Casper to respond before continuing, looking a whole lot more alert than he had only moments ago, his bright eyes sharp and ruthlessly observant. "You're going to go to jail. That's the best-case scenario for you, and trust me, that's a whole lot better than most people get. You haven't hurt me, coffee thing aside-"

"I punched you in the face!" Casper said indignantly. "I shot you."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Oh please,  _everyone_  has punched me in the face and shooting me practically a rite of passage on my ship. Anyway, my point is, I'm not hurt, so when the super pissed off Vulcan comes charging through the door in about ninety seconds, I'll probably be able to convince him not to rip your lungs out. Bones might hypo you with something but most of the time it isn't lethal. You might itch a bit…" Kirk trailed off absently.

"They don't know where you are." Casper said, trying to sound far more confident than he felt when pinned by Kirk's unblinking gaze.

"Of course they know where I am. I told you, this shit is  _not_  new. I wander off all the time. Bones has me nanochipped for christsake. So look, I don't care who you are or what your end game is, but understand that when I say the last guy who tied me to a fucking chair is in teeny tiny bits scattered across the Briarpatch Nebula. My crew are overprotective. Like,  _neurotically_  overprotective."

"They didn't seem all that worried when I commed them," Casper pointed out. "Your doctor kept threatening to kill you."

"That's how Bones shows he cares," Kirk sniggered. "He's weird that way. Trust me, you do not want to be pointing that phaser at me when they get here."

"You're just stalling for time." Casper accused.

"Well duh."

"They aren't coming. You're alone."

Kirk flashed him a smile that was all teeth and a shiver ran up Casper's spine. "Don't say I didn't try to warn you."

And before he'd even finished speaking, the wall to the side of Casper suddenly exploded in an obliteration of bricks, mortar and glass.

Casper was thrown backwards by the blast and as he lay on his back, his ears ringing and his body trying to play catch up, he found himself looking up into two terrifyingly furious faces and thinking  _well shit._

Casper came around wearing the same cuffs he'd used on Kirk, flat on his face with a swarm of police officers bellowing in his ear.

From his position he had an upside down view of Kirk, who was wrapped in a foil blanket to ward off the cold, the doctor and the Vulcan hovering by his side like overprotective parents.

Kirk had his head in his hands and was whimpering. "Ow, ow, fuck my life  _ow_. Why would you do that? Why? What part of  _my head fucking hurts_ leads you to  _blowing up a building with me in it?_ "

"Quit your bitching, Jim," McCoy said as he scanned Kirk over with a tricorder. "Exactly how much did you drink last night?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Kirk whimpered. "I didn't even  _want_  to go out."

The Vulcan had one hand braced on Kirk's shoulder. "I am sorry it took so long to reach you," he said, sounding contrite and angry with himself.

Kirk looked up and shot him a smile that was shockingly sweet. "You were right on schedule. Seriously, your dramatic timing was perfect," he added earnestly when the Vulcan failed to look convinced.

"Nice moving keeping him talking," McCoy said, actually smiling at Kirk, who beamed bck at him. McCoy finished his scan and pocketed the tricorder before stabbing Kirk in the neck with a hypo. Kirk yelped. "That's for the hangover. This is officially your least injury inducing kidnapping. Congratulations."

Casper grimaced as he was hauled to his knees by two officers and struggled to keep his eyes on the three men.

"Did you ascertain your abductor's motivations?" The Vulcan asked.

Kirk shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. Hey, let's get pancakes!"

"You're in your skivvies, kid," McCoy pointed out dryly. "The only thing you are getting is takeout."

Kirk shrugged as a body moved into view, blocking Casper's line of sight.

The officer looked him down and shook his head, almost as bemused as Casper felt. "Seriously? Jim Kirk? Are you crazy?"

Casper could only blink in utter bewilderment. "Yeah. I think so."

 


End file.
